IN MEMORY OF MY DAUGHTER
Clear on the night of my spirit,
To me shines the glance of a star,
It is she! My heart's little maiden!
From her glance gleams something afar,
Of victory, deathless, eternal—
Something that musing, misgiving,
Pierces the essence of being!
It cannot be! It cannot be!
She lives—soon she will waken; straightway
Will ope her pretty eyes,—glad she
Will prattle merry, laughing gay!
And when in tears beholding me—
Will smiling, kissing, cry consoling,
"Papa—it is but playing—See!
I live,—yes! Leave off mourning!"
But cold and mute she lies, alas!
And motionless.
Now in her coffin she lies,
Silent amid scented flowers—
Ah what mute spirits in white
O'er her corpse circle and hover?
Are they the visions of bliss?
Are they all spirits of hope?
That during life lured her on—
Those to whom secretly oft
She had entrusted her soul?
They that accompanied her e'er,
Faithful in forest and field?
Silent they circle my child,
In tearful anguish embraced—
Yet little actress she lies,
Smiling, closed lashes beneath;
See, she is laughing in truth—
thou most merciless Death!